


Side Effects

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: All New X-Factor, Marvel (Comics)
Genre: M/M, cameos by the rest of the x-factor team, quickbit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2690480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pietro wakes up from surgery, Lorna worries about the side effects of all the medicine they've given him, and Remy is charming without even trying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Side Effects

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a Tumblr post that reads "IMPORTANT: consider this, if your OTP was the couple in the cute ass after surgery video, who would be the one high on meds that doesn’t recognize the other but still thinks they’re the most gorgeous thing they’ve ever seen." 
> 
> Pietro is high on meds.

The hospital room was cold, stark, and full of too many people. Remy and Lorna sat on either side of Pietro's bed, while Georgia and Luna were by the windows. Danger and Warlock had taken to standing by the door like strange guards, and Doug kept trying to make them realize that they were intimidating the doctor and the nurses. 

The doctor came in, pointedly ignoring the robots, and said to Lorna, “Seeing so many people around when he wakes might be overwhelming. And if he isn't well, it might be...disturbing...for the younger ones.” He glanced at Luna and Georgia. 

“I can take them for hot chocolate,” Doug suggested. 

“Please do,” Lorna said. “Georgia? Luna? Doug's gonna take you to the cafeteria until Pietro wakes up, okay?” 

Georgia and Luna exchanged a suspicious look but left the room. Doug grabbed Warlock by the arm and said, “You and Danger, too.” 

“Why?” Warlock asked. 

“I'll tell you later.” He dragged Warlock out of the room, and Danger followed. 

“You think he'll wake up soon?” Lorna asked. 

“His body's metabolism makes for some strange side-effects,” the doctor said. “Also, his heart rate has been climbing steadily for the past five minutes.” 

Lorna and Remy glanced at the machine monitoring Pietro's vitals. Sure enough, his heart rate was higher than it had been last time they checked. 

Remy slumped in his chair. He hated this part. The waiting. They'd been on a mission and Pietro had been caught in an explosion, one so sudden that he hadn't even been able to react in time. They took him to the hospital, where he had surgery to take care of internal bleeding and a punctured lung. 

Now, Pietro looked pale, his mouth and nose covered by a transparent mask. His chest rose and fell steadily, which was comforting. Remy kept watching him breathe, and nearly jumped when the pattern broke and Pietro's breath hitched. 

“Pietro?” Lorna asked. Remy's eyes snapped to Pietro's face. Pietro was awake. 

“Shit,” he said. 

Pietro's eyes were on Lorna. He said something, but it was muffled by the mask. He made a noise of frustration and grabbed the mask, throwing it off. Lorna rose from her chair with a surprised yell, but stopped in her tracks when Pietro slurred, “Why is your hair that color?”

“My hair's always been this color,” Lorna said. 

“Always,” Pietro repeated. “What an unusual color.” 

Lorna frowned. The doctor said, from his place at the end of Pietro's bed, “Some of the drugs can cause temporary memory loss.” 

“Memory loss!” Lorna exclaimed, starting to rise again. 

“Nothing to worry about,” the doctor said. “In other words, he's extremely high.” 

“How do you feel?” Lorna asked Pietro. 

Pietro gave her a crooked grin. “Good.” He laughed, weakly. “Your hair--” 

“My hair,” Lorna repeated. 

Pietro turned to look at Remy, who was trying not to laugh. “Whoa,” he said. “Your eyes.”

“Oh yeah,” Remy said, smirking. “What about 'em?” 

Pietro leaned towards him, openly staring. “They're beautiful.” 

This time it was Lorna's turn to laugh. Remy's jaw dropped. 

“You are lucky,” Pietro continued, “to have such beautiful eyes. And hair. Your hair is very nice even if it is normal.” 

“Uh,” Remy said, running a hand through his hair, “thanks.” 

“Do I know you?” Pietro asked. 

“Yeah,” Remy said. “I'm, uh, we live together.” 

“We live together?” Pietro repeated. “I live with you? I can't believe that. You are so...beautiful. How did that happen?” 

“I'm not sure,” Remy admitted. “Wanna see something cool?” 

Lorna gave him a warning look, which was less intimidating because she couldn't stop laughing. Pietro said, “There's more?” 

“With me there's always more, chere,” Remy said. 

“You speak French, too,” Pietro murmured. 

“Oui, mon ami,” Remy said. 

“Those words suit your voice,” Pietro told him. “They sound lovely.” 

“Lovely,” Lorna choked. 

“Look at this,” Remy said, taking a playing card out of his pocket. He charged it up so it glowed. Pietro's eyes widened. 

Remy made to throw it but Lorna jerked her head at the doctor, who'd backed up from the bed, and hissed, “Don't you dare.” 

Remy sighed and let the energy dissipate. He handed Pietro the card. Pietro turned it around in his hands, frowning at it, trying to figure out what had just happened. But it remained an ordinary card. 

“You,” Pietro said after a moment, “are extraordinary.” 

“I'll remember that,” Remy said. “And I hope you do, too.” 

Pietro sighed. “I will. Do I get to go home with you?” 

“You do,” Remy said. Suddenly, Pietro grabbed his hand and pulled it close. 

“Do you enjoy my company?” he asked. 

“Does he ever,” Lorna said. 

Remy could've said that he didn't trust Pietro, that he found him to be high-strung and infuriatingly impatient and smug and annoyingly fast. He could have said those things, but they didn't necessarily mean that he didn't enjoy Pietro's company. Because when Pietro had been unconscious, he'd been worried. 

Despite himself, Pietro had actually grown on him. 

“Yeah,” Remy said. “I do.” 

Lorna choked. 

“Wonderful,” Pietro said. “When I leave here, would you be willing to go out for coffee?” 

“A date?” Remy asked. 

Pietro nodded, his eyes fluttering closed. 

“A date,” Lorna repeated. “Like he's going to take you on a date.”

“He will,” Remy said. “I recorded that part on my cellphone.” 

*

The next day Pietro had woken up again, this time more himself, and everyone had been to see him to make sure that he was okay. He'd spent quite a lot of time talking to Luna, assuring her that he was going to be fine. And then he spent more time talking to Lorna, though Remy wasn't sure what that conversation was about. 

When Lorna left the room, she nudged Remy, who was standing in the hallway, and said, “All yours.” 

Remy entered the room and sat on the bed. Pietro, propped up on pillows and face pinched, glared at him. 

“Good afternoon, mon ami,” Remy said, taking one of Pietro's hands and lifting it to his lips. Pietro stared at him, horrified. “How are we feeling today?” 

“What are you doing?” Pietro choked. 

“Reciprocating your feelings,” Remy told him. 

“What feelings?” 

“Ah, I thought you might be in denial about it,” Remy said, “but yesterday, you asked me on a date. Ta get coffee.” 

“I did not,” Pietro snapped. 

“You told me I was beautiful,” Remy continued, “and all other sorts of nice things.” 

“You're lying.” 

“Nope.” Remy produced his cellphone and started playing the recording he had of Pietro asking Remy on a date. 

Pietro blanched. “I-I was clearly not in my right mind,” he managed. “I didn't even know who you were.” 

“But you liked me,” Remy said. “Which says something about how you feel, I think. But you just won't admit it.” 

“It does not,” Pietro said. 

“I don't recall you having a degree in psychology,” Remy said. 

“Neither do you,” Pietro snapped. “What makes you think any of that was actually real? It was all drug induced nonsense.” 

“You told me how much you like it when I speak French,” Remy said. “How lovely my voice sounds. Lovely? I never heard you use that word before.” 

Pietro's cheeks were starting to stain red. Remy had to admit to himself that Pietro looked adorable like that, all indignant, surrounded by pillows and blushing. 

“Don't tell me you actually want to get coffee,” Pietro said, narrowing his eyes. 

“I'm not one ta refuse such an enthusiastic offer,” Remy said. 

“Fine,” Pietro said. “Fine. We will get coffee, and then you will drop this nonsense.” 

“It's a date,” Remy said. Pietro tried to hit him, and missed. “By the way, do you actually think I sound lovely when I speak French?” 

“I'd rather you not speak at all,” Pietro told him. 

Remy smiled and stood up. Pietro looked relieved. Then, just before turning away, Remy leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Pietro's lips. 

He was halfway through the door when he heard Pietro yell, “LeBeau, I'm going to murder you!” 

“Looking forward ta our date, chere,” Remy called back, and then he was out the door. 

He couldn't help but notice that when he'd kissed him, Pietro hadn't pushed away.


End file.
